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The summer is half over already - who knows what this month has in store. Trips this month: 6
07/3/03 We knew that this paddle picnic was going to be "iffy" at best with tropical storm "Bill" off to the west but it looked as though the rain would hold off for a few hours. It held off for a few minutes - just long enough for us to drive out to Ft. George Inlet where a light rain began to fall. It wasn't enough to deter us - we could see light skies all around us so we caught the end of the tide and barely dipped our paddles in the water as we floated out to a deserted beach near the breakers. We set up, dug our pit, opened our wine and sat in the intermittent drizzle while our steaks cooked. The rain eventually stopped and the sun started to come out just before it set and we decided to go for a walk along the breakers. It was then that I realized that I had brought three dead batteries for my camera with me. Oh well - you'll have to take my word for it - the sunset was spectacular - lot's of odd colors and beautiful pure light reflecting on the ships out in the anchorage beyond the jetties. We were kept company by a gull (looked a lot like the same one who was with us last week - who can tell) and were amused by the sight of a Reddish Heron across the way who was doing his comedy act - rather unsuccessfully. Finally, I had to force Hope into her boat so that we could get back before it got completely dark. We caught the incoming tide and once again hardly dipped a paddle in the water as we zoomed home.
07/8/03 Today, the tide was right to put in at Pumpkin Hill after work but I decided that instead of heading towards Tiger Point, I would go the opposite direction - south towards Cedar Point Road and the origin of the creek. The tide was still incoming and there was a slight southerly breeze which made the heat a little less oppressive. There are many little branches that looked inviting but I decided to head for the end of the creek first before making any side trips. I passed by my original put-in from a few weeks ago and then made the long loop in the main branch rather than take the direct cut by that put-in. As I paddled in a shallow area, I was scared to death by a large redfish who leapt from the water a few inches from my paddle causing me to curse loudly as he flew by. There was a section just to the south of my original put-in that was full of birds - mostly egrets and they flew off well before I could get close enough to take pictures. There were a few Black Crowned Night Herons in the group as well as a tri-color or two. As I continued upstream, I began to notice an odd site. In places it appeared that the marsh grass was oddly colored and textured. After accidentally running over one of these clumps, I realized what I was seeing - masses of mosquitoes that were clinging to the vegetation. When I ran into them they merely swarmed up noisily but never tried to bite the only piece of red meat in the vicinity - me. Later, I was reminded that only the females bite and perhaps I was seeing where the male skeeters congregate. As I continued further in and the stream got narrower and narrower I saw more and more of these creepy masses and finally, I decided that I would head back to open waters - before the females decided to go out bar-hopping - looking for a mate and a meal. There was not a lot of bird life on that end of the creek - a few herons and egrets and the occasional rail - more heard than seen, as usual. When I got back to my put-in, the tide was just peaking out and I noticed a couple of islands not far away that had several birds perching so I made my way over to investigate. Of course, they all flew away well before I approached but I did see something I have never seen before - an Anhinga who was flying in circles above the marsh. It was an odd site to see. His silhouette is very distinctive - quite different that the other cormorants. Besides the distinctive markings on his back, his wing shape is quite different and his tail is very long and fan-shaped. He also flew in odd patterns - unlike his cousins who fly very fast in a straight line. As I watched him fly I heard the screech of a bird of prey and looked to the neighboring island and saw what might have been a Red-Tailed Hawk flying off toward Black Hammock Island. As I watched him, I suddenly heard a loud grunting and rustling behind me and turned to see two large wild pigs crashing through the underbrush of the island a few feet from me. They continued on through the marsh grass and then disappeared as they headed toward Black Hammock. By now a large thunderhead had appeared on the horizon rumbling as it approached so I made my way toward my put-in and headed home. See the pictures from this trip
07/10-11/03 Kayak Camping on the ICW. Well, all week long we noticed how uncharacteristically, the thunderstorms had been staying away from the First Coast so we figured that our camping trip might get a similar reprieve. That seemed to be confirmed as I checked the radar periodically at work to see that the skies were remaining clear well west of us. But as soon as I began loading the boats - I could hear the rumblings of an approaching storm. It looked to be well to the south of us and so we crossed out fingers and hoped that the sea breeze would do it's thing and push it north and south as it so often does here in Jax. As we set off from Hannah Mills, we began to wonder if we were going to luck out or if indeed we were going to wind up seeking shelter before we reached our campsite. The skies behind us were turning black and the occasional lightning bolts seemed to be getting a little close for our comfort and safety. Ultimately, I decided that the safest place would be our intended destination - a new campsite directly east of where we camped in April so we pushed on. Along the way, we encountered a large flock of Tri-Colored Herons who were acting unusually skittish and we flushed them several times along the way out to the ICW. As we approached the waterway we could see the large gatherings of herons and egrets already underway on the western shores of all the islands. The trees were laden with dozens of white clumps and occasionally you could pick out the darker shape of a great blue or a tri-color amongst the pure white being reflected by what was left of the sun. We made it to our camp site well before the storm got too close and as we entered the lagoon on the east side of the island we flushed a Black Crowned Night Heron who "wokked!" and then flew to a small tree on the opposite bank of the pool where he remained the rest of the evening. The underbrush had grown up considerably since March - nearly obscuring the landing and as I got out of my boat to make landfall, I was reminded why it's a good idea to bring your paddle with you as you enter a seldom visited island in Florida - Banana Spiders. Fortunately for Hope - her 6-4 "boy toy" works quite nicely as a spider clearing device and I quickly had a path cleared. I hurriedly unpacked and got the hammocks set up in case the approaching storm continued it's way toward us - as the flashes of lightning made it appear it was going to do. Once I felt we had shelter secured - I started the fire and began cooking our still frozen steaks while we sat and drank a beer and listened to the approaching thunder. We also heard one of the oddest sounds we have ever experienced. A few yards from our campsite was the eastern bank of the ICW and the location of the masses of egrets and herons we saw as we made our way over. There was a cacophony of creaks, croaks and grunts coming from that direction that was really almost creepy to hear. We weren't sure if this was just normal "egret talk" or if they were upset at our presence or if they were agitated by the approaching maelstrom. Occasionally we would see several of them circling over the trees above our heads and it was obvious that those same trees were a common roosting spot - and it explained the dozens of blue-gray and white feathers that littered the floor of the campsite. Eventually, the sea breeze won the battle with the storm and it seemed to split off and head north and south of us. Apparently, this was what the birds were talking about because we noticed that as soon as the thunder and lightning died down - they became strangely quiet. We watched a spectacular sunset and then retired to the campsite where we ate our steaks, drank our wine and talked. We walked out to the ICW a couple of times as darkness grew - hoping for a sight and sound of dolphins. We were disappointed but we were treated to quite a fireworks show as the lighting continued on to the south of us well into the night. We enjoyed a "bug-free" evening sitting by our roaring fire until around midnight when we retired to our hammocks. The night was more or less uneventful - a bit quieter than the last time but still a bit too close to Atlantic Marine and Blount Island as well as Mayport but it was not bad. We were both awakened around 3 a.m. by another bizarre sound. At first I thought that a raccoon or wild pig was rampaging in the underbrush near the clearing but it soon became apparent that we were hearing the sound of several large birds coming in to land in the tree-tops above our heads. They croaked and groaned and squeaked constantly and this was accompanied by the "whump, whump, whump" sound of large wings pushing air as they took off and landed. I'm not sure what they were up to - fighting, making love or just the usual bird stuff but at times it sounded like someone was either having way too much fun - or no fun at all. Hard to tell with birds. A couple of hours later, I finally arose and walked out to the ICW to watch the stars and in the gathering light I could see that the trees above our campground were indeed full of a variety of birds. After watching the sunrise, I made a fire and did a little housekeeping around the campsite to make things a little nicer. After waking Hope up we had our breakfast (no coffee! - there's always something!) and then I decided that we had plenty of time to take our time heading back. WRONG! With a low tide at 1:30 pm, I figured that if we left the campsite at 9 - 9:30 we could easily make it back by 10:30 and that would be enough time to get in before the water left. Well, it took us much longer to battle the tide and breeze and when we got to the final stage of the trip back - it appeared as though we still had plenty of water. Well, Mr. "Paddle The Timucuan" - the same one who admonishes everyone to plan your trips carefully - especially in Hannah Mills - wound up looking like a fool - a very muddy fool. Once I was within a couple of hundred yards of the put-in I realized that I had miscalculated. I was already scraping bottom and I wound up literally pulling my boat through the mud with my paddle for about 150 yards. At one point I decided to attempt to walk the rest of the way - an idea I abandoned as soon as I reached my waist in mud and was still heading south. I fell back in my boat and grabbed my paddle and pulled with all my effort until I was safely on solid ground. Now, what about your wife, Kevin? Oh yeah - her. She had no idea what was in store for her and all I could do was wait until she found out. She was dealing with a good bit less water than I did and finally I could see the frustration setting in about 100 yards out. With horror I could see her prepare to exit the boat and I yelled at her that she was not to do that. She looked at me like I was a deranged fool but stayed in the boat and kept on trying. Finally, when she was about to give up - we found a way that still had some water and she got close enough to shore to throw me her line and I was able to lay out in the mud and pull her to shore. So - here we are - I'm covered from my shoulders down in black slime and she's not much better and every step I take I have to stop and retrieve my tevas from the muck. Finally we made it to the launch point but not before I got a nasty cut on my hand from an oyster shell. Incredibly, Hope didn't once mention wanting to kill me (better let her fall asleep tonight first, though - ) and she was even able to laugh about it before we loaded the truck. I would say "lesson learned" but I already knew that lesson - so let's just say lesson affirmed. It did make me think about carrying a rope in the truck - in case I need to lasso my bride. See the pictures from this trip
07/14/03
Obviously, this is not a "Timucuan" adventure but one of the rare occasions when I get the opportunity to paddle elsewhere in Florida. One of our favorite family day trips over the last 13 years or so has been a visit to one of the many fresh water springs that dot the landscape south and west of Jacksonville. Of those - our favorite is Ginnie Springs - a private park located along the banks of the Santa Fe River, south of Lake City and west of High Springs. We've only paddled there once - three years ago when I first bought the Malibu and although we had fun - it was a very limited excursion. Today, with Hannah back from Miami, we loaded up all three boats and packed ourselves into two vehicles and headed west about 8:30 a.m. We got to the park and finally got in the water at the boat ramp on the west end of the park around 10:30. The water levels have finally started returning to normal after years of drought conditions and we found that we could easily paddle against the current and with a greater volume of water now covering the eel grass, we expended little effort heading east. I had done a Terraserver check the night before and found an island about a mile and a half east called "Rum Island" so with Hannah and Andrew in the Malibu and Hope and I in the Pokes we made our way in that general direction. Not a whole lot in the way of wildlife. A few egrets, hundreds of turtles but not much else. We turned into "Blue Springs" - another private campground upstream and saw a hawk that we couldn't identify up in the Cypress. We soon reached the island and quickly paddled around it. Once we reached the place where we were back in the main channel, I spotted an unmistakable shape on the bank. We kept a respectful distance as we floated by the five foot gator sunning himself and soon after passed a sign in the woods that read "WARNING! MATURE GATOR NESTING AREA". Gee, I'm glad that they are mature gators! I wouldn't want any pregnant teenage mom gators running around the river - smoking crack and living on welfare. We glided back with the current and turned into the main spring at Ginnie where we snorkeled for a while and then ate lunch after rescuing our food from a couple of felonious squirrels. The lack of sun made it a little less inviting to hang around the frigid water for too long and so instead of tubing down to the truck we all decided that paddling was a much better option. That turned out to be a great idea since as soon as we hit the river the downpour came and we pretty much paddled in the rain the rest of the day. Once we got to the boat ramp, the kids wanted to keep going so we continued on until we were well out of the park on the west side. I had thoughts about going all of the way to the bridge on 47 but at one point we saw white water ahead and the current suddenly picked up dramatically so we turned quickly around and headed in the opposite direction. We loaded up and headed home just as an even more intense downpour hit the area. It would have been a nicer day without all of the rain but at least we had the river and the springs to ourselves. We are looking forward to finally following through on a proposed camping trip on the river in this area. See the pictures from this trip
07/17/03
This is the first time Hope and I took anyone on one of our "paddle picnics" and it was our two recent paddle buddies - Hannah and Andrew who went with us. Not much to report. The tide was perfect to ride it out and then back in. There was a very stiff breeze out of the south that made the first part of the journey very rough and unpleasant but once we cleared the rocks o Little Talbot we had an easy float to the end of the sandbar. We built our fire and swam while we watched some "surf sailors" in the breakers and then sat around snacking while making sure that the gulls didn't try to steal our steaks off the grill. We waited until almost sunset and then headed in and found my paddling co-worker Mike and his girlfriend waiting for us. They had seen us on the sandbar as they went out to Talbot and honked. We chatted for a while about our respective paddling adventures and then headed home. See the pictures from this trip
07/25/03
It's been a bad week for paddling. The evening T-storms seemed to time their arrivals in Jax perfectly to keep me ashore and an intestinal virus that gave me a general crappy feeling all week didn't help much. With Jaguars camp starting tomorrow, however, I was determined to make at least an appearance out there today. The radar and skies looked clear when I set out but by the time I reached Alimacani the skies to the east were dark and threatening as a front was coming in off the ocean. I decided to go ahead and try it in spite of the warnings of another kayaker incoming from the east. I paddled past the bridge but decided to take cover on the north end and sit and watch the incoming front from a relatively safe location. It was fascinating to watch the dark clouds roll in over the bridge. I sat there for about an hour watching the rain and was treated to the sight of a dolphin swimming just beyond the bridge. After the rain let up, I paddled out toward the ocean but as soon as I reached the end of the rocks the lightning flickered again and I realized that the rain was going to be here for a long time so I turned around. As I approached the ramp, I noticed a Reddish Heron on a sandbar doing his comedy dance act so I stopped to watch him for a while. To my surprise, he actually caught a small fish - I thought I could hear the fish laughing though.
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